The
Widow
Genre: Angst/Romance/General
Pairings:
TOFUU
Warnings: OOC Characters
Summary: Not all stories have
happy endings. Not all relationships continue in peace. Not all
couples come out alive.

Italics
will signify flashbacks.

Dedicated
to the reviewers of Because of One Room. I love you guys.

Disclaimer:
I don't own Flame of Recca. This fanfiction is not true nor is it
being published to earn money, otherwise it wouldn't be called
fanfiction. (Dark.)

-The
Widow-

She
was the widow of Japan, and nothing could change that.

Kirisawa
Fuuko watched as the fine droplets of rain came drizzling down the
dark sky. Alone.

What
was she complaining about? She had been alone for 7 years now. The
times of Hokage team were over, and members of it were going separate
ways.

Recca
and Yanagi had migrated, and were always too busy with their eight
kids (Fuuko wondered who on earth had the right mind to have eight
kids. Then again, Recca didn't have a mind) to bother about
keeping in contact with her.

Domon
had settled down with some anonymous girl of whom Fuuko had forgotten
the name of. In Australia. It was surprising that Domon had actually
liked her once, seeing as she had sent them tons of letters over the
past years and all she had got was a few bunches of paper scribbled
on with Domon's unreadable handwriting saying 'Best Friends
Forever' Heck, with his writing skills, it could've even been
saying 'Eat Some Snow', but Fuuko didn't want to know what it
really was.

Here
was the best part. Mikagami Tokiya died. 7 years ago. Why? Good
question. Fuuko glared at her reflection in the mirror. It had been
her fault, honestly.

Until
today, she had no idea why he had done it. Her tears begin to drop,
as if they were part of the rain outside. She didn't bother wiping
them away. More was sure to come. The troublesome tears always did,
whenever she thought about him.

"Indeed,
our results are correct, as they are always correct," the
doctor answered, emphasizing on the lovely two syllables 'always'.

"That's
not even theoretically possible!" yelled Fuuko in utter outrage.
"I've fought in tournaments and won, mind you! I didn't faint
or get massive stroke from those fights with the toughest fighters in
the whole of Japan!"

"It
may have developed after the tournament, Ms. Kirisawa," snapped the
doctor, testily.

Fuuko
sank into a chair, letting reality sink in. Weak heart? She still
couldn't believe it. That would explain the sudden cause of
fainting (like fainting right in the middle of the street onto a
certain Mikagami Tokiya). Her stomach churned.

Tokiya
gripped his wife's hand tightly. "Are there any donors that
match?"

The
doctor took a look at his clipboard before shaking his head. "No,
sir. Unless, of course, you'd want to donate your heart to
her," he added jokingly.

Tokiya's
eyes widened, as if he had gotten the greatest idea of his life. The
doctor must've noticed, because he hastened to say, in a polite
tone, "I was sincerely joking, sir."

Fuuko
opened her dark blue eyes to a room of darkness. Willing herself to
walk to the cupboard to get dressed, she trudged her way downstairs
after that.

She'd
fallen asleep thinking about the heart transfer again, the wind
goddess figured. Pounding her fist onto the table in an attempt to
soothe her rage, she gritted her teeth and glared at Tokiya's photo
on her kitchen counter.

Her
eyes softened once she remembered when she had taken that picture. It
had been right after they had gotten married, at an amusement park,
before Recca and Yanagi had gotten children, or before Domon had
migrated.

I
got the idea when yanagi-chyan told me in her review – "I
found this chapter more funny than sad because I knew Tokiya wouldn't
die."

So
here I am, making him die. (I'm so evil.) Crappy story. Review if you like the story, and flame if you need to do so to yell at me to edit the story (or delete it, in any case, to make the world a better place). However, I digress.

The author would like to thank you for your continued support. Your review has been posted.